


Stars Never Die

by poetanddidntknowit34



Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Drug Use, I'll add tags as we go, M/M, Slow Burn, mature themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-05 20:30:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19047850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetanddidntknowit34/pseuds/poetanddidntknowit34
Summary: It's 1984, and Curt Mega wants to be the greatest rock star that ever lived. His childhood best friend, Owen Carvour, is content to cheer Curt on from the sidelines. But as the pressure of fame and the lifestyle of the 80s begins to wear on the two, and as their feelings for each other cross the lines of friendship, Curt must learn what he is willing to sacrifice for his dream, as Owen learns what he is willing to tolerate for his.





	1. Prologue

The worst day of Owen Carvour’s life was a clear, sunny day. No clouds loomed on the horizon, no one needed a poncho or an umbrella. There wasn’t even a chilly wind to match the dampness Owen felt in his soul. Instead, the funeral attendees wore sunglasses and sweated in their suits as the greatest star of this generation was enshrouded in dark and placed into the ground.

Curt Mega was dead; there should have been weather of apocalyptic proportions. Or at least a light drizzle.

But it was fucking sunny.

Owen stared blankly ahead, not listening as the pastor finished his sermon. He sounded like he was underwater. The sound of Mrs. Mega sobbing next to him barely registered. Tatiana placed a hand on his knee comfortingly, but she too was approaching inconsolable as the pastor talked about Curt’s life.

Owen couldn’t cry. He had been bled dry of tears at the hospital. All that was left was shock. And anger. And a desire to be buried, too. And the knowledge he may soon get that wish.

The pastor dismissed the crowd, and the attendees began to disperse to go back inside for the reception. Barb was holding Mrs. Mega by the elbow as she made her way slowly across the uneven ground.

Owen didn’t budge.

He sat there long after everyone was back inside. Not even Tati attempted to talk him into leaving. He sat there as the time he and Curt had shared played back in his mind.

His reverie was broken by his phone buzzing in his pocket. He answered it.

“Hello?”

_“Mr. Owen Carvour?”_

“Yes.” He listened to the woman on the other end, then hung up.

He snapped out of his shock as her words sunk in.

“Shit.”


	2. Part One, Chapter One

_Six Years Earlier_

******

_“And you can’t find me/_

_Fighting for you._

_Caged birds don’t sing better/_

_Than those in the air._

_No, you won’t find me/_

_Fighting for you._

_I’d rather be alone/_

_Than tied to this affair.”_

Curt Mega was furiously strumming his guitar, practically yelling into the mic as he gave the performance his all. _Fight for You_ was his typical closing number; it had the fast pace and ‘stick it to the man’ attitude that Curt swore his fans craved.

The Wednesday night crowd at Finn’s Bar must not have been big Curt Mega fans, though. The four customers and bartender barely looked at him as they ate their shitty burgers and sipped lukewarm beer.

Owen was having fun for all of them, though. He watched as his best friend played his heart out, always treating every gig, no matter the size, as if he were playing for a stadium of screaming fans. When Owen once asked his why, Curt just shrugged. “It’s practice for when I do play a stadium of screaming fans.” He’d said. And he’d always been that way. Whether he’d been performing songs for his mother and Owen in his garage in primary school or playing a captivating version of Romeo in the high school play. Curt Mega thrived on an audience, no matter the size.

Now, Curt was winding down the end of the song.

_“No, never will I ever/_

_Be caught dead in a fight for you.”_

He struck the final chord and stumbled back away from the mic, letting the electric guitar reverb for a bit, before cutting the note and ending the song. Owen jumped from his chair and began to applaud wildly. “Woo! Yeah!” He yelled, giving Curt a thumbs up from where he stood. No one else was applauding.

Nevertheless, Curt was beaming at a job well-done. “Thank you! I am Curt Mega, and you’ve been a great audience.” He waved, then turned around to pack up his gear.

“That was great!” Owen said, striding up to the stage and handing Curt a beer.

“You think so?” Curt said, smiling and taking down half of the beer in no time. He didn’t like to drink 24 hours before a performance, so a post-show beer was always customary. “I feel like I was a little sharp on the second verse of _Echo_.” Curt was also extremely hard on himself.

“I didn’t think so.” Owen said, helping him tear down the amp and unplug his pedal board.

“Owen, you can’t carry a tune in a bucket, so forgive me if I don’t take your word for it.” Curt teased, and Owen rolled his eyes.

“Curt, I’ve been listening to you play for ten plus years now.” Owen said. “I think I’d know what you sounded like if you were off, and you sounded great tonight.”

“Thanks.” Curt beamed. “I wonder what Finn thought of it.” He glanced over to the bartender. Finn’s Bar was a dive, sure, but it was also the most popular bar in Winchester on Friday and Saturday nights.

Curt had been begging Finn for weeks to let him play for his customers. “They’ll love it!” Curt had said. “And you can be known as the only live music bar in Winchester!”

Finally, Finn had agreed to a Wednesday night show as a trial run. If he liked what he heard, Curt could play a Friday night crowd.

“Well,” Owen said, finally rounding up the last of Curt’s gear. “Why don’t you go ask him? I’ll start loading the car.”

“Thanks, buddy.” Curt clapped Owen on the arm.

Owen smiled as he watched Curt jog off to the bar to talk to Finn. He began to drag the equipment outside to their car. As Owen loaded the amp into the backseat, he was grateful Curt was a solo act. There was no way his little Ford Fiesta would fit the gear for a whole band.

“I got it!” Owen heard from behind him. He turned around to see Curt running out of the bar towards him. “I got the Friday gig!”

“Congrats!” Owen said, holding up a high five, and Curt slapped his hand enthusiastically. “This calls for a celebration!” He closed the back door of the car and opened the driver’s side. “Hop in!”

They drove through Winchester and out into the country. Owen rolled the windows down and lit a cigarette while Curt stuck his head out the window and yelled triumphantly into the night. The two 25-year-olds both had work in the morning, but neither cared; they were high on Curt’s success and bound and determined to celebrate accordingly.

Owen rolled the car to a stop on a cliff outside of the city limits. Both got out and breathed in the fresh September air. There was a slight chill in the air that warned them that fall was approaching, and Curt pulled his leather jacket tighter around him. They sat down on the hood of the car, and Owen fished a joint out of his pocket. He lit it, took the first drag, then passed it to Curt.

This was their spot. All throughout high school and during summer breaks in college, they would come to this spot and spend hours talking, smoking, drinking, and watching the lights of Winchester in the distance. Out here, they could talk about anything and escape from everything. Out here, they were free.

“What songs are you going to do on Friday?” Owen asked, taking the joint back from Curt and taking another drag. Marijuana always hit him faster than it did Curt, and he was already starting to feel a slight buzz.

“Probably _Killer Vibe_ and _Fight for You_ for sure. _Echo_ isn’t the best, but I might toss it in there if I feel the crowd needs a little cooling down before the closer.” Curt shrugged. “Finn said I could do five songs, but that’s it for a little while. And if no one is digging it after a few weeks, he’ll audition someone else.”

“Good thing you’re the best, then.” Owen said, smiling at him.

“No offense,” Curt said back. “But I want more people than just you to know I’m the best.” Owen opened his mouth, and Curt held up a hand. “My mom also doesn’t count.”

“OK, but with how aggressively your mom cheers for you, she has to count as at least three fans.” They began to laugh.

“I’m serious, though.” Curt said, laying back on the hood of the car. “I want to play for packed stadiums. Everyone chanting my name! Curt, Curt, Curt, Curt!” He imitated a crowd screaming. “I want to play grandiose concerts in America and reach the world with my music!”

“You will.” Owen said, also leaning back to lay on the hood next to his friend. “One day. You’ve got the talent and the work ethic. All you need is a little luck. It’ll happen someday.”

“I hope you’re right.” Curt said, and the two fell into a comfortable silence, watching the stars as they glittered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, here we go again! Another slow burn Curtwen AU. This one's gonna be angsty as shit, though, so strap in!

**Author's Note:**

> To chat about the fic, request one-shots, or just hang out with me, follow me on Tumblr @abuginahumanbody !


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